


Jervis Tetch x Reader - Prison Break

by TheJokersEnigma



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jervis Tetch - Freeform, Oneshot, Very long, based on prison break epsiode, gotham fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJokersEnigma/pseuds/TheJokersEnigma
Summary: i had a request to write anything as long as it was Jervis Tetch x Reader - this is what I came up with - it's based on the episode in season 4 where jerome, tetch and scarecrow escape arkham.Tbh, for a Jervis Tetch fan fiction, there should be more Tetch, but there isn’t… I apologise for that, and for the length! But I hope it’s ok?





	Jervis Tetch x Reader - Prison Break

You sat with your head down, cross-legged, on the corner table in the room, the furthest you get away from everyone else, your back to the rest of the room. You stared at the wall opposite and the barred window, knowing the view from it well. A brick wall. You stared, therefore, at the brick wall inside of the room instead - the one painted white - counting all of the chips in the paint, drawing images from them like cloud watching - or the closest you could get to it these days.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” You muttered at the wall, addressing the man you knew had just stepped up behind you.

“These accursed halls?” Jervis Tetch muttered bitterly. “Yes.” He said now stepping up to stand alongside where you sat, also staring at the empty wall ahead. “You, my dear? Is that your fear” He asked, glancing over at you, though you kept your own eyes straight ahead. “Never.” He murmured softly. You looked over at him now, cautious, wanting to believe him, but from what you’d seen recently you just couldn’t seem to.

“The clown? The scarecrow?” You questioned, almost accusingly.

“Tools and fools, my sweet.” He answered with a sly smile, “Useful till they outlive their purpose - their time fleets.”

“Will I ever outlive my purpose?” You asked coyly, turning you head to him fully now, batting your eyes, though a part of you did truly worry.

“My love, what a suggestion!” He cried, turning to face you straight on, looking hurt by your fear. “You are no tool and there is no question!” He reassured you earnestly and you ducked your head, embarrassed, glancing back to the wall, still not completely sold. “For now, though, my dear, I must leave to engineer our plan to disappear…” He wiggled his eyebrows at you slyly and you couldn’t help smirking quietly.

“With them?” You questioned.

“It is a necessary evil, I assure you, my love,” And your face fell, “Imperative I do not arouse resistance through distance.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, “But don’t get yourself caught through your ‘scheming’.” You muttered bitterly, “Not all the guards are as stupid as they look…” You murmured, leaning your elbow on your knee and resting your chin in your hand. Conversation over.

“Of course.” Jervis murmured finally, taking the hint, and now turning back the way he had come. You waited a few moments, then glanced back out of the corner of your eye to watch him walk away. His figure was tall, but thin, the inmate uniform hanging off this skinny body, and his hair was lank and unkept, something about him not right without the newspaper top hat he so often wore around the asylum. He’d told you the reason, though - so many of them having been stolen or heart-breakingly destroyed in front of him recently that he’d lost the will to make anymore at the moment - so his head now sat oddly empty of his tell-tale accessory. It didn’t stop him looking anyelse beautiful to you, but it did sadden you slightly because you knew his love for his old hat – the one not made out of degradable paper.

Your contact with Jervis was few and far between over the next couple of weeks. There was a point where you didn’t see him for several days and you heard rumours of him being put in isolation, or having been hurt, but you knew the communal space was a breeding ground for rumours – half the inmates being so insane they often started gossip with themselves – and choose not to believe any of it. Well as much as you could.

It was one evening, whilst being led back to your cell for the night, that all hell broke loose. You could hear, far off down the corridors, some sort of commotion, and the two guards guiding you seemed to hear it too, pulling you to a halt and both turning their heads to listen.

You could make out shouts, whoops, mad laughter. A scream. Maybe one of the inmates had gotten lose? Maybe hurt someone based on the scream? Either way, it sounded closer to the other end of the asylum then to you.

The two men above you glanced at each other, sharing a silent discussion, before continuing to lead forwards to your cell a short distance down the hallway you were in. You were surprised to already see your door was open, and - by the slight falter in their steps – the guards were too.

They pushed you in as per usual, and pulled the door closed with the usual sharp crash, though you thought something was wrong. Had you missed the sound of the lock clicking?

The men didn’t seem to notice though, now discussing the noise at the other end of the asylum, and then you heard it – the heavy sound of footfalls extremely close. In that moment, the men outside your door heard it too - turning to face whoever was running towards them – and were then abruptly knocked out of sight of the tiny window in your cell door.

You pushed yourself desperately up on tiptoes to try to get a better view, peering down at the floor where you saw the two men, at the very least unconscious, and one bleeding from his head. You turned your head to try to look down the corridor in the direction of whatever had bowled the men over and caught a fleeting glimpse of an inmate’s striped clothing before they vanished around a

You fell back onto your heels, not sure what to do now. You could still hear, in the distance, whatever disturbance was happening elsewhere in the asylum. Had that inmate broken away from that ruckus and managed to find his way to your corridor? Would you be blamed for the state of the men outside your door? Would they testify against you? – the guards here weren’t above that – they like punishment, they didn’t care if you were guilty or not – you’d learnt that the hard way. But would they even wake up? You didn’t know much medics, but you didn’t think bleeding from the head was a good thing.

You kicked your cell door in frustration, crossing your arms sulkily, then paused. The door felt like it had moved more than usual – as though it was… loose?

You stepped up to again, holding the tiny ‘window sill’ part of the door with your fingertips, pulling it as much as you could with your limited grip. Sure enough, you pulled the door open.

You hadn’t heard the locking mechanism because it hadn’t locked.

You stared at the rectangle of freedom in front of you, the men still lying on the floor at your feet and showing no signs of getting up. You cautiously stepped out, avoiding the bodies and glanced up and down the corridor. The shouts and whooping were still muffled, but loud on your left, but the large crazed inmate had run to your right.

You decided to seize the opportunity and do the same – after all he was clearly running from something, and hopefully to somewhere.

It didn’t take long, however, until you found yourself lost amongst the maze of white brick corridors, the loon you had been attempting to follow, long gone thanks to your delay in your cell, and you were struggling to even distinguish his footfalls amongst the increasing noise you could now hear throughout the entire asylum.

You paused in the middle of one of the identical corridor, out of breath and feeling yourself beginning to panic. You could easily be running in circles and you wouldn’t know it, the halls seeming to run on forever. You’d passed numerous rows of cells, all empty - their doors thrown open wide just like yours. The only guards you had come across were corpses on the floor, most with their skulls smashed in, or something rammed straight through them. It was a gruesome wreckage of a mob you seemed to be walking through, but you were oddly uncaring. Maybe that was why you were here.

You tried to keep going now, reaching a cross roads, hesitating for a moment before you continued straight, not sure what else to do. Each bend in the hallway you peered around cautiously first, each cell you checked for inmates, each door that was closed you tried to push open.

They all swung open, empty.

That’s why you were surprised when you finally found a door that didn’t budge.

You frowned at the solid metal for a moment before you released the difference between this door and all the others. It had a manual lock. It need a key. All the others were computerised – needing a key card. Someone had overridden the key card system, but you couldn’t override a lock and key.

You turned around, searching up and down the corridors, then caught sight of it, a dead guard. You headed over the body and searched the pockets and belt for what you were after, pleased with yourself when you withdrew a small set of keys from the mangled guard corpse.

There were multiple keys you had to try, but soon you managed to turn one of them stiffly in the lock.

The door swung open to reveal a dark, relatively large, store room full of rows of shelves. You wandered in curiously, walking the lines, some empty, but some holding objects, clothes, weapons, wallets, books.

Personal items. Confiscated goods.

You milled amongst the shelves for a while, observing individual items, your fingers itching to pocket several of them.

Then you saw it though. A hat not dissimilar to the ones that Jervis made himself out of newspaper, tall, black and simple. You reached up and pulled it off the shelf where it sat just above your head, examining it at eye level now, briefly the smooth, yet sturdy material, rubbing your thumb over the slightly worn areas on the brim.

Your head suddenly snapped up at a particular loud shout which sounded particularly close. Were you just being paranoid or was the mob-like noise getting louder now? You headed back to the door of the room now, glancing up and down the corridor, but seeing nothing obvious, though perhaps the noise was louder? You crept back out into the passageway, the hat gripped tightly in your hand as you continued back on your path through the asylum, still searching for any possible exit out of the building.

You tried to map your path in your head, all the barred security gates that separated the corridors having been unlocked alongside the cells. You had now managed to reach the areas of the asylum where visitors were allowed to walk without guidance, signposts on the walls pointing to different areas – ‘Reception’, ‘Medical bay’, ‘Exit’. You followed the signs as well as you could - though some of them were chipped and illegible in places - the asylum not getting enough visitors to waste money on their upkeep.

You were certain now though, that the further you followed the ‘Exit’ signs, the louder the shouts and cries got, and you found yourself hesitating. Every fibre of your body told you to flee from the noise, but you couldn’t surely give up on this opportunity of escape?

You momentarily thought of Jervis, hoping he was ok in all of this. But had he actually been the one to cause all of this? Was this his attempt to escape? Was that why he hadn’t been in the communal room today? But, if it was, why hadn’t he said anything to you? Why hadn’t he come to find you? Had he lied to you? Done what you feared and gone off with those two other men – the creepy clown and man who wore that sack over his head like a scarecrow?

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of heavy footsteps – several of them – on the tiled floor behind you. You spun around in surprise, only to be batted to the side by a large, muscular body, knocked against another person who laughed manically in your face causing you to step back into another man who pushed you aside as he ran. You found yourself buffeted sharply from side to side, your hair and sleeves pulled, then thrown against one of the brick walls, falling painfully onto your hip, Jervis’ hat knocked from your hand and skidding a short distance across the floor. Despite the pain, you quickly scrambled to your hands and knees and reached out for it, worried it would be trampled. There seemed to be few second delay between seeing the foot land on your hand, and the sickening crack of your fingers, and another few seconds before you gasped out in agony - the sound largely drowned out by the commotion around you.

Suddenly you felt something against your palm and - as well as you could with your broken bones – you pulled the hat back towards your body before curling into a foetal position against the wall, trying desperately to avoid the rest of the stampede as you hugged your broken hand and the top hat to your chest.

The striped inmates of various sizes and mental stabilities, continued to run past you, hooting, screaming, cheering and clattering things together - apparently trying to make as much noise as possible – some even shoving guards ahead of them, punching and kicking them forward.

The mass thinned to only a few stragglers racing past you, you dared to try to push yourself to your feet, wincing at the stabbing pain that shot through your hand, tears streaming down your face. You kept your broken hand cradled to your chest, the top hat in your other, and decided the only thing for it was to follow after the direction of the mob – praying they were heading for the exit and you could attempt to weakly tag on behind.

You soon found yourself passing the security hall, metal detectors – most knocked over, furniture thrown into monitors, corpses – mainly inmates – littering the floor. You were walking through a wreckage and a part of you though it might have actually been fun to be part of it if the other side of you wasn’t so terrified by the sight.

Most of the bodies you saw seemed to have fallen victim to the stampede rather than any lethal force from guards - in fact, there didn’t appear to be any guards in this room - not even their corpses - all of them presumably having been dragged outside by the rampaging mob.

The asylum seemed to be basically empty, everyone having found their way of out the main double doors you now slipped through – they also having been thrown open. You emerged out into the courtyard where the other inmates now ran free, making the most of fresh air and room to stretch their legs - the more loonier ones whooping and flailing their arms in the air as they ran around like rabid five-year olds. You scanned the rest of the scene, some inmates beating on their new guard toys which anything they could get a hand one – one man having found a shovel and relishing the spray of blood that came from his poor victim. You noticed one man in particular dressed in red, stood very upright, and still except for where he banged randomly and unrhythmically on a what appeared to be a cooking pot, his face expressionless. The reason for this poor attempt at a marching band was soon clear when you raised your gaze towards the tall imposing gates that had always barred your freedom – the saner inmates having been rounded up into two parallel lines facing each other, and who now all raised broomstick handles or metal pipes into the air as three men strode beneath them proudly.

The figures were immediately recognisable to you – one wearing what seemed to be a burlap sack over his head, one with short bright orange hair, and the, his hands folded neatly behind his back, had a very familiar mop of dark curling hair. Lacking its signature top hat.

Jervis.

He was leaving. Without you.

You felt your heart pang painfully ad you watch him walk away from you, oblivious. He was just going to abandon you. He hadn’t come looking for you, he didn’t know where you were – you could be a corpse on the floor for all he knew. He was just going to causally stroll out the main gates with his new best buds.

Hot, angry tears ran down your cheeks as the three young men now stopped under the dark arch that read ARKHAM ASYLUM, Jerome turning and saluting his entourage of inmates who had largely gather back together. They went mad for their ring leader, shouting and cheering, shaking their makeshift weapons or just punching the air. You however, had remained on the front steps of the asylum, and now glanced back over to Jervis who, for a moment, seemed to have a slight look of concern on his face, his eyes maybe even scanning the crowd? Was he looking for you? Did he actually still maybe care about you – at least a little bit?

Clearly not enough to come looking for you though, you thought glumly, making no attempt to try to get his attention. You no longer felt much like trying to escape this prison. What did the world beyond the gates in front of you hold but more pain? Jervis, for a fleeting moment, had given you hope that you had a future beyond the white walls. That was gone now though – leaving with trio who now led their army of maniacs down the road back to the real world.

Yes, you might as well just continue to sit in your cell all day. The real world didn’t want you – it couldn’t – despite your lack of memory, you knew there was clearly a reason you had been put in the asylum in the first place. Freedom would mean bad things could happen – unpredictable things. At least at Arkham you knew the bad things – there was routine – and, in a way, safety.

You let yourself drop down onto the concrete steps below you, pulling your knees close to your chest, resting your damaged hand on your thighs. The top hat was still clenched tightly between your good fingers and you let it hang in front of your shins as you watched the large crowd skipping, dancing and laughing manically as they ran off into the distance - leaving you completely alone in the courtyard of your prison. The sounds of their shouts gradually faded away as they did until eventually you let your head drop, resting it on your knees as a fresh wave of tears escaped your eyes again, falling onto the filthy fabric of your inmate uniform.

You sniffed away to yourself for a while, wallowing in your self-pity, subconsciously fiddling with the rim of the top hat in your hand, not sure if the pain you felt was from your hand or your heart.

A part of you told you to throw the hat in the dirt – throw it in the dirt and stamp on it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to – at least not right now. It was the only piece of Jervis you had left – a memory – and one you weren’t sure if you wanted to keep or not.

Not 100% sure what you were doing, you now lifted the hat up, examining it again - brushing off some dust that clung to the brim where it had been thrown from your grip earlier – then carefully lifted it and place it on your own head. It was slightly too big for you, the brim falling low - and you probably looked ridiculous – but the weight was almost comforting. It wasn’t like there was anyone left to see you anyway. You were alone.

You decided to just wait there on the steps until the cops eventually arrived and then took you back to your cell. Maybe they’d let you keep the hat? It was hardly a weapon.

Just then, a flicker of movement by the gate in front of you caught your eye. Your first thought was it most likely to be one of the crow-like birds that populated the asylum, sitting on the windowsill and circling the courtyard, picking at scraps of nothing. Birds that would be attracted to the corpses scattered in front of you.

However, as the movement continued, you soon realised it was a person heading towards the asylum. Was it a cop already? Where was his cruiser? A scout perhaps? You now noticed, though, that there was something off about the figure’s movement – not a normal walk or run, but an odd drunken-like ramble.

You watched the figure warily as it continued to towards you where you remained crouched on the steps. The sky was overcast, keeping the person’s face in shadow, but you could make out the tell-tale striped inmate garb now. Clearly one psycho had broken free and got separated from the mass. Lost, his screwed-up brain had led him back to the asylum. He seemed to be limping slightly, and now you could hear him mutter and groaning and he reminded you of some sort of zombie-like creation. You now scrambled to your feet as discretely as you could, knowing how dangerous these types of inmates were and, with no guards to save you now, you need to put some distance between you and him. You could feel your shaking ridiculously under you - likely in shock after everything that had happened so far – but you still tried to climb the stairs behind you, whilst still trying to keep your eyes on the creature in front of you.

Despite your careful movements, the creature’s eyes now snapped to yours and you froze in place, your heart racing. It began to amble towards you now with more purpose, one leg seeming unable to bend, but that didn’t comfort you much when you saw the size of the man’s arms. He was grunting incomprehensibly, and it raised one of it’s arms, pointing a gun at you.

Its arm wasn’t steady, no aim to its threat, but if it pulled the trigger, the bullet could go anywhere, including into you. Your eyes were wide and focused solely on the weapon now, praying the man’s finger didn’t twitch. The inmate paused, however, when he saw the top hat sat on top of your knotted hair. His face changed instantly from a terrifying snarl to a look of five-year old wonder, now dropping the weapon to reach for it. You quickly pulled the hat off your head, holding it close to your chest, your whole body shaking now as you stared up at the giant who loomed over you. There seemed to be a delay in the creature’s mind because he now looked at the empty space above your head, confused, before glancing down at where you clung to his toy.

He snarled, and you quickly jumped up the steps behind you as he snatched his hand out at you, dancing out of the way. The creature had been watching the guards though, and now raised the gun to you, copying the threatening action it had seen many times before.

You weren’t sure why you were protecting the hat, maybe in memory of all the others that had been lost to the cruel childlike behaviour of the inmates? But you couldn’t hand it over. Even for your life. You screwed your eyes shut, ducking your head as you waited for the shot. You heard the bang and then suddenly felt a searing pain in your upper arm - momentarily glad it wasn’t in your chest – and felt yourself being spinning, grabbing your arm with your broken fingers, the two pains colliding and merging dizzily in your head, only dimly aware of the warm liquid dribbling between your pale fingers.

Suddenly a hand was covering yours and you gasped out in agony again, unsure if it was from the pressure on your fingers or on the wound. “Oh dear, oh dear, the water runs red.” You heard someone mutter above you, though you kept your eyes clamped tightly shut in agony, forcing tears of pain out of your eyes and down your grimy cheeks. “Must stop the bloodshed or you’ll be on your deathbed.” The person continued to murmur to himself and you managed you blink away enough tears to see the undeniable face of Jervis Tetch next to you. He pulled back slightly now, reaching into one of the pockets of his striped overalls, and pulling out a rather dirty handkerchief. He pushed your hand out of the way, faltering when he felt the bones move and slide unnaturally, but focused on his current task, placing the grubby material over the wound in your arm, immediately soaking it in bright red blood, and pulling it tightly against the skin. You couldn’t help another cry of pain escaping your lips. “My most sincerest apologies, my love.” You heard Jervis murmur desperately to you, his eyes on his work as he now tied the makeshift bandage as securely as possible.

You forced your eyes open again as he stepped back once more, blinking dizzily at him, not quite believing what you were seeing. You needed to sit down. You half lowered, half collapsed onto the steps beneath you, Jervis catching you and helping to lower you down, his face full of concern. You let your throbbing hand drop into your lap again, the constant pain just becoming background noise to you now.

“Your hand, my dear -” Jervis exclaimed worriedly.

“Broken.” You gasped in explanation. You glanced up at where he hovered above you, this hair curling in a frame around his face. “You’re here?” It was a stupid question, but one you had to ask.

“Yes, my sweet.” He nodded, his face still troubled, eying your injuries warily, but he managed a weak smile at you.

“You left.” You accused quietly, your voice breaking, not sure whether your tears were of physical or emotional pain. “Without me.” You added, your heart breaking again at the reminder.

“I never intended to, my dear!” He exclaimed earnestly, crouching down to your level. “I sought you out, but for nought! Your cell, bare, your path fair!” He explained, reaching for your good hand, holding it between his own. “I employed guards to search for you on behalf,” He insisted, “but I lost most to that ungainly mob.” He muttered bitterly. “In the end, my sweet, I shall admit I made the painful decision to complete our vision - to remain in the favour of my other companions and not waver.” He continued, his tone conveying his guilt over this choice. “But I intended to steal away from my colleagues - unable to stand my melancholy – to seek you out, have no doubt!” Jervis insisted desperately, squeezing your hand.

You could tell he was trying to convey his honesty to you, but your heart still hesitated and suddenly you were distracted by a movement out the corner of your eye. The inmate Jervis had apparently knocked aside had regained enough consciousness to groan quietly again, now reaching for his favourite toy – the gun - that had landed nearby him after being knocked from his hand. Your eyes widened in alarm as his huge hand closed around the muzzle of the gun, then suddenly a shot went off and the man cried out in terrible agony.

Jervis turned at that, seeing what was happening, and his face filling with a rage you’d never seen. “Fiend!” He declared, as he stood up, snatching the gun quickly and, without hesitation, releasing a bullet from the chamber straight into the crazed man’s skull.

The man’s head dropped back to the floor, his eyes wide open but unseeing, Jervis flicking the hair out of his face as he glared down at the body, whilst you remained frozen in place behind him. He finally turned back to you, no trace of the anger a moment ago. “Now here is an interesting riddle, my sweet…” He mused lightly, examining the gun still in his hand. “How is a weapon such as this, trigger with neither finger nor thumb upon it?” He questioned, his eyes flickering to yours with suspicion.

“I-I don’t-“ You faltered, panicking because you really didn’t know. At all. Had you truly done it? Why did that sound right? But how could you have possibly done it?! It was a ridiculous idea. But then… The hat earlier, when you had fallen, when you had reached for it and got your fingers broken. The hat has suddenly appeared in your hand. Someone could have just luckily kicked it towards you, but… maybe not?

“It would seem, my love, that you are hiding secrets…” Jervis grinned down at you, his eyes sparking with intrigue and you blushed hotly.

“I didn’t –“ You tried to explain weakly.

“Do not deny or simplify, my dear.” Jarvis stopped you, now holding out a hand to you, which you took after hesitating for a moment, and pulling you to your feet once more. “Plenty of time to truly discover the extent of your talents,” He smiled down, “For now, my child, let us attend to your injuries…” He offered you an arm to take which you did so with your bandaged arm, allowing yourself to be led down the steps of the asylum and towards the gates.

You suddenly stopped, surprising Jervis. “Child?” He questioned with a frown.

“Wait here.” You told him, releasing him and striding back to steps, searching until you found what you were looking for. You picked up the worn top hat, brushing off the dust from where it had fallen and now turning back to Jervis, presenting it to him. Even from this distance, you could see his eyes light up.

“Is that what I think it is, my dear?” Jervis asked in amazement as you walked back.

You nodded it, holding it out to him. “I found it on my way out.” You explained. Before you left. You thought to yourself and you dropped your gaze to the floor.

Jervis noticed, placing a hand under your chin to lift your face again. “It would seem I have quite a large debt to make up to you, my love.” He observed softly. “And it is one I shall gladly pay every day.” He murmured, now tipping your head up further as he brought his lips to yours.

When the two of you finally broke away, Jervis proudly place his beloved hat atop his curls and offered his arm to you again, leading you through the gates of Arkham Asylum and to a freedom you were finally looking forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> This has taken me a ridiculously long time to edit haha (going on 6 hours - though I have procrastinated) but it’s finally done. I kind of rushed the end, so I apologise for that, but I’ve been doing this for 3 straight hours now, I want my lunch, I need to revise, and it’s 8 pages long! haha


End file.
